


The Birds and the Bees

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: Harriet walks in on her parents during a very adult activity, and a slightly uncomfortable talk ensues.





	The Birds and the Bees

“You know, I’ve been thinking about making another baby with you,” April says, leaning against the counter with her hands braced at her sides. “What do you think?” 

I crinkle my brow and close the fridge where I’d been rummaging for an after-dinner snack. I found a cheese stick leftover from Harriet’s lunch, so I get that out, unwrap it, then look at my wife dubiously. 

“Yeah?” I say, taking a bite out of the stick.

“That is  _ not  _ how you eat it,” she says, then reaches for it. 

“Get your own,” I say. 

“I’m just gonna show you how,” she says. “Give it. Look.”

She digs her nail into the top and shreds a fine layer of cheese down. After she makes it all the way, she rips it off and drops it into her mouth with a satisfied grin.

“I told you to get your own,” I say. “Plus, my way’s more efficient.” 

“Jackson,” she says, still chewing. “Another baby.” 

My eyes drift over to our big, ten-year-old baby on the couch, knees bent by her face with a chapter book resting open on her thighs. Her glasses rest halfway down her nose and her hair is in two long, neat braids. She won’t let us use the fun, decorative hair-ties anymore, though. She’s reading  _ Inkheart _ , which simultaneously enthralls and scares her. 

“We could have another genius,” I say. “How did she get so big?” 

“I don’t know,” April says softly, now watching Harriet, too. “But she did, didn’t she?” 

“So big,” I say. 

“I know you guys are talking about me,” Harriet says, looking up from her book and adjusting her glasses. “I can hear you.”

April giggles and I match her happiness with a smile. “We were not,” I say. 

“Yes-huh,” she counters. “My ears work.”

“We could have another smartass,” I whisper to my wife, nudging her shoulder with mine. 

“I want one,” she says, looking up with a sweet grin on her lips. “Do you?” 

I look back to Harriet, who’s returned to her book. She’s perfect in every single way, there’s no doubting that. She’d be the most wonderful big sister - caring, loving, thoughtful - and she’s a great helper. She’d be an amazing teacher to a little sibling. It’s so easy to picture her with one. 

“Yeah,” I say, then steal a kiss on April’s cheek. “Oh, yeah.” 

She smiles and presses herself against my chest, winding her arms low to grab two fistfuls of my ass. I jump at the sudden contact and raise my eyebrows, seeing that she’s thoroughly pleased with herself. 

“I’m ovulating,” she says, and she doesn’t need to say another word after that.

“Hats,” I say, catching our daughter’s attention. “It’s 9. Time for bed.” 

“Aw, daddy, one more chapter,” she says, groaning. 

“Sorry, charlie,” I say. “Do you want me to tuck you in tonight, or Mom?” 

“Mommy,” she says, giving me a pout. 

I smile through it. “What, ‘cause I’m the bad guy?” I tease, hurrying over to block her as she gets up from the couch. “You don’t want big bad Dad to put you to bed ‘cause he’s so mean?” 

I pick her up and sling her over my shoulder easily - she’s tiny, just like April. “Daddy!” she says. “Put me down!” 

“Not ‘til you say it,” I say, ignoring her futile attempts to punch my back. 

“Dad, no…” she whines, too old and way too cool for what we used to do when she was little. “Just put me down! Mom, please, tell him!” 

“Say it!” I say, jostling Harriet a bit. “I won’t let go until you say it!” 

“Fine…” she mutters. “Dads are the best.” 

“What?” I say, turning in a quick half-circle. “I couldn’t quite hear you. What was that?”

“Dad!” 

“Dads are what?” 

“Dads are the  _ best _ ,” she says emphatically, and I let her down with a few bounces onto the couch. 

She pushes her braids behind her shoulders and gives me a pretend pout, arms crossed over her chest. She sticks her lips out and I nudge her chin with my knuckles while she fights a smile. 

“I know you still think I’m cool,” I say. “Don’t lie. You ain’t that big and bad yet, little girl.” 

“Oh, leave her alone, you bully,” April says lightly, coming around from behind the kitchen counter. She winks at me over Harriet’s head and extends a hand for our daughter to take. “Come on, ladybug. I’ll tuck you in and we can chat for a bit.” 

Harriet gets up right away and follows April with an open, eager expression. As she’s gotten older, she’s become more of a mama’s girl that she used to be - and that’s something I’ve definitely had trouble with getting used to. April says it’s because she’s maturing, and a woman’s perspective is now more important than ever. I still miss the days where she’d play with me in the mud in the backyard, though history might have a way of repeating itself pretty soon here. 

While April busies herself in Harriet’s room, I jump in the shower and leave the bathroom door cracked. While standing under the water jet, I let it run over my face and clear my mind, de-stressing from a long day at the hospital. I close my eyes and let out a few long breaths, feeling the droplets make intricate paths down my neck, chest, and lower.

Without my realizing that she even entered the bathroom, the glass door to the shower pops open a while later and April appears, stark naked.

“Room for one more?” she asks, without waiting. 

“Always,” I say, backing up a bit.

She steps under the stream and tilts her head back, closing her eyes to welcome the water on her face. It flattens her hair and tints it auburn from red, and she runs her hands over it while wearing a serene expression.

“She claimed she wasn’t tired,” April says, after her hair is sufficiently soaked. “But her eyes were closing when I left.” 

“Did you sing to her?” 

“Of course,” she says, leaning against the tile. I make a less-than-amused face and she places a hand on my chest to say, “What?” 

“She still lets you sing, but barely looks at me anymore,” I grumble.

April chuckles good-naturedly. “Oh, Jackson,” she says. “She’s growing up. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “But it’s still hard.” 

“I know it is,” she says, coming closer to press a few kisses to my sternum. “But pretty soon, she’ll grow out of this phase and go back to thinking you’re the coolest ever.”

“I really am the coolest ever,” I say, skimming her sides. 

“You are,” she agrees, eyes earnest, then laughs. “I’ve always thought that.” 

I smile before kissing her, tipping my head to the side and capturing her lips at an angle. I press her back against the tile again and feel her breath escape as she kisses me back with fervor. Her hands are all over my head, neck and shoulders while I push my tongue inside her mouth, and she parts her lips so I have plenty of access. 

I cup her breasts in my hands and squeeze them lightly, a few times in a row, just enjoying the way they feel in my grip. They’ve become so familiar over the years, but in the best way. I know everything there is to know about her body, yet it continues to amaze me. It’s one of the best things about being married. 

I kiss her neck while still holding her breasts, thumbing the nipples as I lick her throat and move to one side, concentrating on the place where her pulse beats beneath her skin. 

She moans with her mouth open, knees slack for a moment while I close my lips and suck hard. She grips my biceps for support, fingernails digging in like always, and sighs when I pull away. 

“Mmm, I love that spot,” I murmur, kissing a path to the slope of her shoulder. 

She holds my head as I move lower, moving my lips to her chest, her ribs, her stomach, until finally I’m on my knees with her core presented before me and she’s woven her fingers through the tight curls on top of my head. 

I massage her small, muscular thighs and kiss her center while her legs are still pressed together, over the swell below her bellybutton. She’s completely waxed and her skin is impossibly smooth, so I spend a while just running my tongue over it - over her outer lips, the creases between her legs, and when I’ve run out of places to lick, I throw her left knee over my shoulder and feel her hand cup the back of my skull. 

As I am with everything else about her, I’m also used to the way she tastes. I close my eyes and lose myself in her, relishing the moans and whimpers, sighs and requests, feeling her scratch my head when something works especially well. I reach around and hold her ass as she stands, using the leverage to shove her against my face and bury myself deeper within her. I don’t come up for air until I absolutely have to, and when my mouth parts from her, my fingers take its spot. 

I slide them deep inside and work them in and out slowly, watching her face contort and her hips writhe as I do. I keep my lips on her thigh and she undulates her pelvis, doing her best to try and fuck my hand to find that release she’s begging for. 

I chuckle a bit, pleased with how she’s reacting, then dip my head to find her clit with my tongue. She makes a high-pitched, desperate sound as I trace circles around it, tugging it between my lips every now and then as I’m able to feel her pulse strengthen. I suck on it hard and let it pop back to her body, then she takes a fistful of my hair and doesn’t let go. I tease her with the tip of my tongue only, flattening it to run up the length of her slit until I get to the apex again and re-expose her clit - this time rubbing fervent, hurried circles with my thumb and kissing her core until she comes unwound with a few disjointed twitches and jerks. 

“Fuck,” she breathes, releasing her tight hold on my hair. She lets her head fall to hit the tile and swipes a hand between her legs while still catching her breath. “Your mouth…” 

“I know,” I say getting to my feet. I push her hand out of the way and replace it with my own, nudging apart her lips to tease her clit yet again. “Don’t forget about the fingers.” 

“How could I,” she says, laughing softly before reaching to shut off the water. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s go to bed.” 

“I didn’t wash a thing,” I say. 

“We can after,” she says. “Right now, I just wanna make a baby with you.” 

“That can be done,” I say, then hand her a towel while stepping out. We dry off a bit before heading into our bedroom, and once we get there she strips and guides me to sit on the edge of the bed. Knowing what she’s about to do, I widen my knees and watch her, sitting back, spread out lazy and casual. 

She lowers to her knees and pumps my erection, sandwiching herself between my legs. I squeeze her shoulders a bit and she smiles, then parts her lips and lets the head of my dick slide between them. Pre-come pools on the lower one and she licks it away, then kisses along the length of the shaft, concentrating on the biggest vein that she always points out. It’s her favorite. 

It’s so fucking hot when she locks eyes with me and sucks me off, so I feel myself tighten as she does. I take hold of her wet hair and wrap it around my fist, tugging gently as she takes me as deep as she can. 

I’m just about to bust when she pulls off and takes a string of saliva with her, looking hungry and wild with her pupils as blown as they are. 

“Why’d you stop,” I pant. 

She stands and pushes my shoulders down, then climbs up to straddle my waist. “‘Cause I don’t wanna wait,” she says. “And you’re hard as hell. I want you inside me.” 

I chuckle at her straightforward, heated words and grab at her ass until she’s lined up with my dick that’s ‘hard as hell.’ She adjusts her knees, plants her hands on my chest, then sinks down onto it slow and calculated, closing her eyes while she moves and stretches around me.

“Shit,” I moan, digging my fingertips into the supple skin of her ass. When she thrusts forward the first time, I bring one hand down and slap it so the extra fat bounces back - I love watching it do that. 

I let my eyes fall to where we’re joined and stay concentrated there for a good while. I drag my thumbs over the pockets of skin between her pelvic bones, playing with her body in a way that I can only do while she’s at this angle. I scratch my nails along her flat belly - that hopefully won’t be flat for much longer - until I find her breasts, and once I do, I take two firm handfuls and simply hold them while she rides me. 

After a while, her breath changes and I know something is about to happen. I let my hands drift to the dips in her waist as she grinds faster; the end is in sight now, and she wants it bad.

“Are you close?” she pants, forehead sweating.

“Yeah,” I grunt, jerking my hips against hers to try and get there at the same time she does. It’s fucking amazing when we come together. It’s not exactly rare, but it’s not every time, either. I don’t take it for granted. “You?” 

“Yeah,” she whimpers, then reaches up and grabs at her own breasts, tweaking the nipples to push herself a little further. She slams her hips into mine and then stops suddenly for a moment and loses the rhythm - but before she starts up again, bucking rough and wild, my orgasm begins as I shoot off inside her and take her waist with two strong hands. 

“Fuck, April,” I groan, still lost in the feeling. 

With one last scoop of her hips, she hits it, too. Her mouth opens in a gasp and her eyes close, with little sounds tumbling out from her lips in the same rhythm that her hips work against me. 

I’m lost in the way she looks until movement by our bedroom door catches my eye. I think it’s just a trick of the light for a quick moment until I realize it’s not that at all - it’s Harriet, dressed in her pajamas, looking absolutely shocked and mortified. 

“Shit,” I say, then pat either side of April’s hips to try and make her understand. I can’t get the words out quick enough, though, and she ignores my hands. She’s still coming down from her orgasm, chest heaving, both hands now planted on my chest instead of her own. 

“God damn,” she breathes.

“April,” I say, wide-eyed. “Harriet, she-” 

“What?”

“She was by the door,” I say, sitting up and bringing her with me in a clumsy sort of way. “She just ran away.” 

“What?!”

“She saw us,” I say, and my wife scrambles off me like she’s been caught doing something illegal. 

“Shit,” she curses, then swipes a hand between her legs where my semen is probably leaking out. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

She hurries off the bed and flies into the bathroom, and I hear the water running for a moment until she comes back out with a robe on. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she says, looking at me sitting there, still completely naked. “We have to go talk to her.” 

“What are we supposed to say?” I ask. 

“I don’t know,” she answers. “But we can’t just leave it. She’s probably horrified. And confused. Oh, god, Jackson…” 

I get up to put on boxers and pajama pants, then stand across from my harried wife with my hands on my hips. 

“Should we give her the talk?” I ask.

April’s eyes widen. “She’s ten!” she says.

“I got the talk when I was eight,” I say. “Then again when I was twelve, then at sixteen and eighteen. All different versions.” 

She eyes me. 

“It’s different for guys,” I say. “And especially since my mother is Catherine Avery, world-renowned penis surgeon.” 

“Well, yeah,” April says, still stuck on the idea apparently. “But Harriet is our baby. What if it traumatizes her?” 

“I think seeing your bare ass riding me was enough to do that,” I mutter, and get slapped on the chest for it. 

“Not the time,” she snaps, then stays quiet for a minute. “We have to tell her, don’t we?” 

“Yeah, honey,” I say. “I think we do.” 

She massages her temples and lets out a long sigh before picking her head back up. “Alright,” she says, admitting defeat. “Let’s go.” 

“You lead the charge.”

April’s hair air-dried, so I stare at the back of her wild curls as we make our way into Harriet’s room down the hall. The light is off, though neither of us are so naive as to think she’s fallen back to sleep already. 

“Honey…” April says, pushing open the door. “It’s us.” 

We both walk inside the room and flick the light on to see Harriet in bed, faced the other way. My stomach twists with nerves; what if we ruined her psyche and now she’s going to need psychotherapy for the rest of her life? She just bore witness to her mom and dad going at it like crazy. I can’t imagine that’s sitting very well with her. Even now, when my mom talks about sex with Richard, I get the creeps. 

“I know you’re awake,” April says, sitting on the edge of the bed. I sit on the armchair next to the nightstand, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.

“I don’t wanna talk,” Harriet mutters. 

April places a hand on our daughter’s shoulder and rubs her thumb in circles. It’s a classic April move - she does it to comfort the both of us all the time. 

“Well, I think we should,” April says, then looks to me for support. 

“It’s true,” I chime in, clearing my throat. “It’s important that you know these things. You’re old enough now to hear this kind of stuff.” 

“I don’t wanna hear,” she insists, whining.

“Can you turn over and look at us, bug?” I ask. 

April glares at me. “She doesn’t have to,” she hisses. “She’s embarrassed!” 

“Well, so am I,” I whisper back. 

April clears her throat. “Honey,” she says. “I know what you saw me and Daddy doing must have been…” She pauses awkwardly and clears her throat again. “Uncomfortable for you, confusing, and maybe a little scary.” 

Harriet doesn’t respond, so I take the floor. 

“It’s not anything out of the ordinary, though, sweetheart. It’s something that adults do when they’re grown up and they love each other.” I take a breath. “Very grown up. Very, very grown up.” 

April rubs Harriet’s side. “When two adults love each other, sometimes they wanna make a baby together.”

Harriet finally flips over, shock written on her face. “You’re going to make another baby?” she asks. 

April and I share a moment of prolonged eye contact - it wasn’t in either of our plans to tell her this soon, but now we don’t have much of a choice. 

“We want to try,” I say, giving her a small smile. 

“Oh,” she says. Her eyes look happy at first, then confused. “You have to get naked to make a baby? And wrestle? Was Mom winning? She was on top.” 

Heat rushes to my face as I close my eyes out of humiliation. April looks away and makes a sound in her throat, and we’ve officially reached the difficult part of the conversation.

“A lot goes into making a baby,” I say. I can’t believe I’m giving this talk to my ten-year-old, because it’s only making me picture the future. Six years from now, when she’s sixteen and dating, and I’ll have to worry about boys looking at her. I shake the feeling. She’s still ten, still in her frilly bed with her mother next to her. She’s not a teenager yet, but there are things she should know. A kid’s version of those things. “A lot more than wrestling.” 

April cuts in. “Everyone has private parts,” she says. “A girl has a vagina, a boy has a penis. You know that.” Harriet nods. April braces herself and dons her ‘doctor voice.’ “Well, when two adults want to make a baby, the man inserts his penis inside the woman’s vagina. He has something inside his body called sperm, which goes inside the woman to fertilize her egg. And if that happens correctly, a baby grows from that fertilization.” 

She doesn’t go into any more detail, and I’m glad for it. All Harriet needs to know right now is the cut and dry information, nothing more. She’s ten. She’s not going to apply this knowledge to her everyday life anytime soon. 

“So…” she says, eyebrows furrowing. “Daddy was sticking his…” She makes a face. “...in your...?” 

April takes a deep breath and answers, “Yes. And we’re very sorry you had to see it. We never meant for you to. We’ll be much more careful from now on.” 

“All that to make a baby?” she continues. We nod. She cringes. “Ew. That’s so gross!” 

Breaking up the moment, I burst out laughing and April does, too. Harriet looks between us and lets a few giggles free, and I’m happy the tension has lessened at least a little bit. 

“It is kinda gross, huh?” April says, still laughing.

“So gross,” she says. “You don’t have to make another baby if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t want to, if I had to do that.” 

“Oh…” I say, nudging her. “A baby is worth it. You came from us doing the same thing.” 

“Dad!” Harriet exclaims. “Don’t say that! Ewww!” 

I chuckle a little bit more, then stand up and kiss her forehead. “You okay, bug?” I ask, looking right into her eyes.

“As long as you guys promise to  _ never _ do that again,” she says, very serious. “Promise, promise. ‘Cause I think I’m gonna have nightmares forever.” 

“Okay, drama queen,” April says, rolling her eyes lightly. “Good night, then.” 

“Night, mommy,” Harriet says, then looks at me. “Night, Dad.” 

“Night, trouble,” I say, then smirk at her again. 

April shuts off the light and makes sure the door is almost all the way closed before we head back to our room. Once we’re there, April leans against the wall and covers her face with her hands. 

“That was terrible,” she says.

“It could’ve gone way worse,” I say, one hand on her shoulder. “She took it fine.” 

“She probably has the image of my bare ass seared in her mind!” she shrills. 

“Hey,” I say, snaking an arm around her waist to gently tap it. “At least it’s a nice one.” 

“You’re filthy,” she says, peeking through her fingers. 

“She’s gonna be okay,” I say, pulling her wrists down so I can see her face. “By tomorrow, end of the day, it’ll be old news.” 

She nods a few times. “There’s still so much she doesn’t know, though,” she says. “I can’t even think about it.” 

“We don’t have to, yet,” I say. “But when that day comes, we’ll be ready. And she will be, too. She’s our kid; she’s capable, adaptable, and smart as hell. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

“Yeah,” April says, sighing. “You’re right.” 

“But if we’re being honest,” I say, expertly untying her robe while she lets it fall to either side of her body - exposing her fully. “There are plenty of things I never want Harriet learning about.” 

April smiles devilishly, one corner of her lips pulling up as her eyes flash. She sheds the robe and lets me back her up to the bed, then flips around so her palms rest on the mattress and her ass is against my hips. I run one hand over the swell of it and nudge her forward, but before I can strip off my sweatpants, she stands up straight again. 

“Wait,” she says. “Hold on.” 

In a hurry, she picks up a chair by the window and rushes to the door. After making sure it’s locked, she shoves the chair beneath the handle and jiggles it once, checking that it’s not going anywhere. I laugh, then beckon her back over. 

“Okay,” she says, resting on her elbows with her back curved just right. “I’m ready.” 


End file.
